AN INTRODUCTION TO MGTOW PHILOSOPHY


I'm going to start this introduction with a short story.

One Friday night a man of even temperament entered a local bar close to where he worked an average 9-5 job. He felt like having a drink before going home. The local bar had been one he frequented when he was in his early 20's. A part of him felt mildly nostalgic and he liked a few people who worked as bartenders of which he was pleasantly acquainted. It being Friday evening the place was attracting its usual crowd, mostly early 20 somethings, a few early 30's He decided to sit at the bar and watch a few bits of amusingly distracting entertainment on the flat-screen positioned in the upper corner wall behind the bar while sipping a Cutty and water. At some point an attractive young woman took a seat on the stool next to him and after pantomiming around in her purse, she sweetly spoke to this man, saying confidently, "I'll bet you'd like to buy me a drink."

Turning slightly to look, he saw a woman with salon perfect hair, artfully applied make-up and the kind of alluring attire that displayed her body in a naturally appealing fashion. On her face was a nice sweet smile and her eyes glistened and her voice possessed a tonality suggesting an upbeat disposition. She was truly beautiful, and within that beauty lay the flattering sense of pride over having been selected by so one so beautiful that out of all the men in the bar, she was allowing him the privilege of buying her a drink.

The man inquired of her in an even voice, "Why do you bet that I'd like to buy you a drink?"
He watched her expression take on an impulsive reaction of confused incomprehension. Blinking, she
stuttered, "Well, because that's what a gentleman does for a lady."
At which point he inquired further, "And what does a lady do for a gentleman?"
Again, her face flushed scarlet with confusion. "A gentleman wouldn't require a lady to have to do anything, that's the point of a gentleman."
  "I see," he calmly spoke, adding, "Let me see if I have this right. A gentleman is a man who buys drinks for ladies and the lady is exempt from any kind of reciprocation because the proof of gentlemanly virtue  is to give something for nothing.
  "You're not giving something for nothing, you're getting the benefit of my company."
  "And the benefit of your company requires I buy you a drink or drinks and what happens when I can no longer buy you drinks?"
  She smiled nervously, sensing something wasn't going quite right. " I think you may have the wrong idea about me," she protested.
  "That helps," he said, "because it infers having your company isn't about the drinks I buy you."
  At this point she had had enough, it was clear this man was not going to buy her a drink so she inquired with a hint of derisiveness, "You're not gay are you?"
   "No."
   "Why are you being so difficult.?"
   "How?"
   "I'm giving you an opportunity to buy me a drink and you're acting all bitchy. What's your problem, you don't have any money, you're poor is that it?" She sneered.
   "No, do you want to know why?"
   She glared at him.
  "I'm not poor because, I don't buy girls drinks who believe their looks entitles them to
have me subsidize their night out. I'm not poor because I don't subsidize women who believe that they're doing me a favor by bestowing on me what they think is a privilege for subsidizing their night out. You've hit the wrong target miss, I'm not suffering from self esteem issues so your comment about me being too poor or gay has no meaning for me. I don't have self esteem issues for you to use your beauty to exploit for your benefit at my expense."

   He says these things to her calmly and without malice. He then gestures for the bartender and she watches him pay his tab and leave a generous tip before departing. She;s seething in hot anger. Did a man who wasn't in her league just up and leave without buying HER a drink? Yet despite her anger, she couldn't help but notice his disposition. Even, calm, with a voice that suggested no snark or sneer and his body language assured and confident. Worse still is he looked at her like he knew every inch of her life, while revealing nothing in gesture or rebuke about his own. He didn't harshly tell her "No, I'm not buying you a drink," but why should she bet he would." In truth she wasn't able to give a sufficiently rational reason why, and even when he asked what did she have to offer for that drink, her answer was equally irrational. She had played this game with men long enough to know that the guys with low self esteem placed a high value on just her company and they were only too happy to subsidize, as he put it that high value. But didn't he say to her plainly that he doesn't subsidize women's drinks because he didn't have any self esteem issues? Didn't he plainly state that her beauty was not a qualifier as something equitable justifying subsidizing?

Sure she could approach the other suckers in the bar, Hell, she could even wait for the many offers to buy her drinks guaranteed to pour in, but now she was bothered. Just last week one of her girlfriends, mentioned this jerk of a guy she too solicited for drinks at a bar across town. "He wasn't interested, and what's more he acted like I wasn't even there." Ordinarily she wouldn't care, a jerk is a jerk, but this guy, he rejected her, no that's not right, he didn't see her didn't regard her as someone worth making a fuss over, like SHE was the one that was unattractive

As the night wore on and other lesser men did subsidize her drinking, her mind stubbornly returned to that guy. She tried to convince herself that he probably hates women, She further concocted in her mind several imaginative scenarios where his hatred of women stemmed from bitterness of past rejection. However no sooner than the comfort of such ideas appeared to bring balance back to her world, a nagging replay of her encounter with him never allowed a point of sufficient corroboration suggesting anything like a hatred of women. Still, without that preferred conclusion, what remained was something she did not have the capacity to conceptualize. And it is in this no man's land of not knowing, a resounding sense of something disturbing plagues her mind. Despite his plainly communicating the reasons for his lack of need for her, a virtual lifetime of easy breezy entitlement, has simply made it impossible for her to put it together. Eventually, she will convince herself that he was a jerk after all that hates women. In the days and weeks after her encounter with him, she will recount her encounter to her female friends with a far different narrative. For within her ever altering account the man will take on increasingly demonic features. It would be HER that rejected HIM when he offered to buy her a drink. It would be HE who complained and behaved as if buying her a drink obligated her to oblige him sexually. His average appearance would be continually reduced  as she recalled the story again and again to her female friends. Now, he would be compared to a short overweight gargoyle attempting to play out of his league. He would become the creepy dude that won't take "no" for an answer, he would become evermore the wide specter of not an individual human being, but an increasingly dehumanized type who exemplified the general denomination of creepy pathetic losers that proliferate the innately male identity. His entire life would be given a fictional biography from which every savage criminal impulse, every sadistic sexually perverse impulse is attributed.


A year or so later, this woman will stand in front of crowd. Maybe it will be a woman's empowerment forum, maybe it will be on a stage at a university as a speaker in a gender studies program, maybe it will be at a Ted talk, maybe it will be through a series of articles written for The Guardian, maybe it will be part of a continuing feature of a feminist blog. She will recount her road to feminist empowerment through the use of her widely disseminated version of the single story, which has now expanded into several separate encounters with misogynists men, whose "everyday sexism" will include even the slightest gestures and words as intolerable weapons of violating assaults upon the autonomy of her physical and emotional being. She will be invited to co-author a book then later a series of books that will become the primary source of feminist academia. She will reap the financial rewards of emerging celebrity through a carefully crafted lucrative field of victimology of which she will make an impressive career as a professional victim. She will be recruited to appear in local media then increasingly national media to extol her harrowing journey through the sexist jungle of dangerous insane sexist men who cannot cease their ongoing attempts to offer her drinks at bars no doubt laced with the newest popular incarnation of a date rape drug. She will regale her female listeners with horror story after horror story whereupon she adamantly cautions young women on college campuses to be suspicious of every seeming act from men because that kindness and that drink comes with a heavy price.

Years later her memory of the one inaugural encounter with the man will have been successfully transformed. Perhaps she will see him from afar and in a fit of overwhelming panic she will cry out to her friends with her, "That's the man I met at the car who sexually assaulted me!" She will say this with tears spilling from her face. Her body will shake in near uncontrollable seizures.Her PTSD will spring into overdrive.

She will lead a campaign to have the man arrested and charges, she will conduct a populist witch hunt that will attempt to dismantle this man's reputation in the popular press, she will seek with obsessive vengeance to orchestrate the destruction of his business, she will launch numerous protest rallies where she will scream to her audience the injustice resulting in the slow arrest, indictment, prosecution and conviction of her rapist. She will pressure the authorities, bully them into making an arrest to prove that they take a charge of rape seriously. His name will be dragged through the mud and as far as anyone is concerned he's guilty sight seen. The rush to judgement will see him arrested, jailed, ans months later facing a crying woman on the stand revealing to the jury in ferocious blow by details the horrific night several years ago when at a bar during her early 20's how HE approached HER and offered, no insisted upon buying her not just one drink but several drinks. She will mention that she was a trusting sort and was flattered by the attention though in no way did she feel any attraction to him that would persuade her to sleep with him. To the sympathetic jury she will spin a narrative communicating that she believes in treating people, no matter who they are or what they look like with human decency but that didn't give that man a right to assume kindness equated sexual availability. She would mention that she started to feel creeped out when he kept touching her in elevating inappropriateness. And by the time his words became crude and lewd she knew that all she wanted was to as far away from him as possible, but she felt lightheaded, like something had been put in her drink and that she felt sick and he was taking her by the arm out of the bar. She will tell the jury that repeatedly through a slurred voice she just wanted to go home and not with him.

She will describe in lose detail a generic alley behind the bar where he took advantage of her inability to move. She will stop several times during her testimony, breaking down in heaping tears. She will suddenly relate that afterwards and for years that followed that she was overcome with confusion, sorrow, fear and an overwhelming belief that somehow it was all her fault. But with support of family and friends and an new awakening provided by the confident guiding council of feminism she realized her rape was not her fault and that she has a responsibility to finally come forward to prevent other young women from suffering the same fate as she. She will propose that she was assuredly not his only victim and that like herself they too may be too afraid to come forward.

The attorney representing the man will cross-examine her and suddenly she sees in this attorney a familiar almost extinct recollection of the calm self-assuredness similar to the dim almost faded memory of the man she accused of rape of having. In fact a glance at him in a nice suit sitting up straight, attentive but again with a face that suggested nothing resembling concern or worry, part of her feels very uneasy. He simply inquires of her evidence to corroborate her allegations. She insists that it happened, and he insists upon proof. She cries some more and, in a performance worthy of an Academy Award she explains to the jury her nightmares, her bouts of depression, her occasional desire to commit suicide, the feeling that she's helpless within an abetting rape culture that does not respect women enough to punish the male predators feasting on non-consensual women with impunity. His attorney asks her questions specific to the night she described. He uses her very specific memories as previously stated by her to mine for further details that should be there but suddenly cannot be furnished for any number of increasingly absurd reasons. He will question the feminist sexual assault expert who will say that survivors of sexual assault will have experience significant trauma that it is not surprising or uncommon for usually expected details to become scrambled or contradictory. She will forcefully announce to the court that survivors of sexual assault endure a degree of trauma that causes the mind to want to blank out the violation or even forget the entire assault altogether. She will reiterate the feelings of horror, guilt and shame, the not wanting anyone to know and how passing time and buried memories can resurface piecemeal with seemingly unexplained associations like becoming anxious when a a few friends decide on the way to someplace they choose to take a shortcut through an alley.


The attorney for the defense will eventually point out his client has no criminal record, no past history of sexual assault, and nothing in his demeanor to suggest a habit of going to bars and getting women drunk or drugged. A parade of character witnesses testify to the man's integrity and what's more point out the fact that he actually has little interaction with women and at no time does he appear to display anything but a sense of self-satisfaction happiness and an even calm disposition.

The questions posed by his attorney reveal several gaping holes and inconsistencies too obvious to merely cover up with missing and confused areas of traumatized states. When he is found not guilty for lack of evidence, she will shriek and she will see him shake his lawyers hand and depart the courtroom without so much as a backwards glance. She will soon after hold her experience in the courtroom as yet another example where a woman is not believed, and that the misogyny of patriarchy shields men in a rape culture that refuses to acknowledge the human dignity of female bodily autonomy. Weeks will pass, and she will wear an empress crown of celebrity victimhood, call herself a survivor and with the help of other feminists she will construct a popular feminist play, that tells her story. She will create several feminist art installations that give abstract form to narrative. She will then receive  enormous government funding to produce an X-rated film dramatizing her rape and the nightmare she endured featuring herself in the film stripped nude in an alley and forced to endure unspeakable acts of sexual abuse illustrated in graphic cinematic detail.

A few years will pass. She will look in the mirror and see reflected back at her a stranger. A distorted fun-house mirror version of herself. A modern day version of the picture of Dorian Gray where her reflection instead of a painting exhibits the cruel twisted visage of a person who has taken on the appropriate aesthetic of the monstrous gargoyle her mind constructed of a man she attempted to destroy so long ago. She is now defined by the status professional victim. Few men speak to her, She's noticed an increase of men disengaging with women. They seem to no longer publicly verbalize their discontent but instead, silently work behind the scenes to shape policy. They hold women at arms length many choosing not to marry or enter traditional relationships.

It is as if a once reliable means of communication with something dependable has been cut of. And the explainable sense
of unease seems to be invading. She hears from more and more women that men don't approach them in bars like they used to, and that more and more men are foregoing dating and fewer and fewer men express interest in wanting children. Some of her feminist friends in academia have even begun speaking in a strange unorthodox but wholly unconvincing manner imparting that feminism isn't misandry and that suddenly miraculously its about working with men and more improbable that men are to accept without question or critique that feminism is responsible for every moral and ethical good under the sun and that with the growth of totalitarian gynocentricism feminism has actually been the sole salvation and benefit to men. (provided they know their place.)

She is rich, she has turned professional victimhood into a new lucrative profession. And yet she is unfulfilled. A part of her recognizes the enormity of self deception, lies and outright deceit to herself and others necessary to arrive at her present station of life. Yet in the midst of her own demonic reflection cast by a mirror more honest than her self-centeredness will fully allow, she sees the abyss of which she created her own dark internal prison. She recalls seeing his face and the calm confidence of a man lacking no faithfulness in himself. A man whose value never needed her validation, a man whose worth is measured by his own rational standards, a man who never allowed the circumstances of a public trial impose self doubt within him. She sees with screaming envy that which took her several years to finally understand and now cannot attribute to herself. He was a free man, He was a MIGTOW.




I relate this story to communicate aspects of the world in which may men will recognize. I say men and not women because, for many men, its a feature of modern gendered society served up by decades of feminism that in parts higher and lower imposed a separate narrative that
does not consider a perspective that is not shape by feminist gender ideas about what composes the lived experiences of modern western men. Facts are routinely altered to corroborate a feminist preconceived notion of what drives men, what men feel, think, express and do and typically as exampled in the vast majority of feminist discourse, men are characterized with almost exclusive negative associations. This is why an encounter with a MGTOW by a modern western woman will often result, in an inability of most women to conceptualize something well beyond anything they've
ever encountered. Therefore it is necessary for most of them to default to a kind of contemporary DOUBLETHINK that allows them to impart comforting misandrist stereotypes to explain why they are not able to make heads or tails of a man who no longer defines his value and worth on her sanction, approval or disapproval. She cannot attribute his lack of total deference towards her, of which 30 years of feminism has cemented within her consciousness an a priori entitlement philosophy. So it must be because he hates women and only misogynists hate women and sooner than later the encounter with a MGTOW will be augmented with several bits of confirmation bias until a completely different reason for his refusal to bow to the gynocentric master allows her to resume life through a feminist-backed set of distortions describing the shape of the world.   Until next time gentlemen remember, your life has value and worth, you don't have to sacrifice it for western women who cannot see you beyond a utilitarian resource to be used and casually discarded. The greatest crime to a feminist is a man with the power and will to think for himself.